


Best Served Cold

by DinerGuy



Category: Castle
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2011-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-16 03:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGuy/pseuds/DinerGuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revenge may be a dish best served cold, but Richard Castle wishes it had never even been cooked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Castle and all its original characters, plot, etc are property of the creators. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made.

It started out as a quiet Friday evening.

Martha was off at a party, Alexis was spending the night at a friend's house, and Castle had a date with Nikki Heat.

Well, not with Nikki so much as with the newest Heat novel. Gina had been pestering him non-stop to finish it, and he was determined to get as many chapters completed that night as he could.

He was completely absorbed in an ingenious – if he did say so himself – plot twist when the sound of the front door clicking open reached his ears. Bracing himself for the story that was surely coming, he called out, "Back so soon?"

No one answered, and Castle's grin faded slightly. Neither Martha nor his daughter were ever so mad that they wouldn't speak to him. Something was wrong.

"Alexis? Mother?" he called again, still with no response. The frown deepening, he set his laptop on the desk and got to his feet. He headed for the doorway, then stopped and picked up a small statue from the shelf beside him.

'No harm in being prepared,' he thought, shifting the weighty object in his grasp.

He hadn't heard anything from the front room since the clicking, and he was beginning to wonder if it was just his imagination. His story-writing was finally starting to go to his head. He grinned as he recalled his mother's warnings, dire declarations that he'd end up a paranoid old man, 'hiding from imaginary hoodlums at every slight noise'.

Just then, he heard a creak. It sounded like someone crossing the floor near the kitchen; it had always had that particular place … Castle tightened his grip and started through the doorway.

He had just stepped into the living room when the intruder made himself known. A sharp pain tore through Castle's side. A cry of pain escaped as he spun, his body involuntarily turning to escape the sharp object.

Jerking away, gasping at the searing sensation, his left hand dropped to his side. He grimaced as he clenched the wound, attempting to ignore the intense pain. Turning, though more slowly than normally, he caught sight of his assailant.

There was barely time for him to notice the dark-clothed intruder before the glistening blade blurred as it was propelled forward by the hand that held it. Another streak of fire entered his shoulder, and he cried out in pain as the knife twisted as it was pulled out.

He tried to remember everything he had learned from Beckett and all the other research he'd done over the years for his books, but he was having trouble focusing. He definitely wouldn't be able to commit any details to memory.

The floor was coming up too fast, and he landed hard, grunting as the impact jarred his injuries. The intruder loomed over him, and Castle felt something wet hit his cheek. He grimaced as he realized it must be blood from the knife.

Then, everything faded to black.

* * *

"You sure about this?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, dude," Esposito replied. "Castle said he was going to lock himself in his office all evening and write. I think he needs something to break up the boredom of the night."

The two detectives were making their way up the stairs to the Castle apartment. Esposito was carrying a bag of chips and various other snacks, and Ryan's hands were busy with drinks.

"Well, then, I'm sure he'll be happy with us. But will Gina?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, grinning mischievously.

As they neared the door, Esposito suddenly quit laughing. Noticing the look on his partner's face, Ryan paused as well. "What's going on?"

In answer, Esposito pointed at the door. It wasn't ajar, but there were telltale scratches around the lock. Both of their cop instincts were on in full now; setting their groceries down in the hallway, they each put a hand on their weapons.

Esposito knocked on the door. "Castle?"

There was no answer.

Worriedly, Esposito rapped on the door again. "You all right, Castle?"

When there was still no answer, Ryan and Esposito exchanged glances, then Ryan tried the knob. The door swung open, and they both drew their weapons. Tensed in readiness for whatever they might find inside, Esposito kicked open the door. Both detectives burst in, scanning the front room for any danger.

The blood spatter on the far wall gave them the first sign that something was wrong. Esposito covered his partner as Ryan led the way towards the office. The coffee table was obscuring their view of the floor immediately in front of the doorway, but when it came into view, both of their eyes widened slightly. Esposito immediately reached for his phone, heading towards the kitchen, while Ryan dropped to his knees beside the still form on the carpet.

There was a frighteningly large amount of blood covering both the writer and the floor around him, soaking into his shirt and the carpet underneath him. Two dark tears in Castle's shirt, one high on his sleeve and the other on his left side, told where the blade had done the damage.

Castle was quite pale, and Ryan worriedly felt for a pulse, ignoring the blood that was starting to seep through the knees of his own jeans. It was weak, but it was there, and he breathed a small sigh of relief.

Removing his button-down shirt, Ryan tied it around the other man's shoulder to try and stop some of the bleeding. He then looked around for something to use for the wound in Castle's side.

"Here," Esposito spoke up from beside him, handing him a couple of dish towels, apparently scavenged from Castle's kitchen drawers. "There's no sign of the intruder anywhere downstairs. I'd say they're long gone by now. How's he doing?"

Ryan didn't look up as he responded, "Two stab wounds, but he's got a pulse. The one in his side is the one I'm most worried about; it looks pretty deep."

"An ambulance should be here soon. I called Beckett, too," Esposito replied. His voice had taken on a slightly softer tone; Ryan could read the emotion in his partner's question and had to swallow some of the same. It was one thing when it was a stranger at a crime scene; it was a little easier to look at things objectively, but this was their friend, someone with whom they worked every day.

"I'll go get more towels." Esposito disappeared again, returning a few moments later with another few. "Any idea when Martha or Alexis is due to get home?"

Ryan shook his head, focusing again on stopping the bleeding in Castle's side. The man had not yet regained consciousness, and his face seemed even more pale than before.

Sirens wailed outside, and both detectives looked towards the windows, breathing a small sigh of relief. A few moments later, there were footsteps on the stairs and two EMTs appeared in the doorway. Curious tenants were starting to make their way down the hallway as well, and Esposito hurried to the door to keep them at bay.

Beckett arrived several minutes later, as the EMTs were loading a still-unconscious Castle onto a stretcher. She nodded to Esposito, who was still handling crowd control, as she passed by him into the apartment. Several of the onlookers voiced protests, but one look from Esposito settled them back down.

"Ryan?"

He looked up from the small group on the floor. "Beckett."

"How is he?"

"He's suffered two stab wounds, one serious, and lost a lot of blood," one of the EMTs spoke up. She brushed a dark strand of hair aside and continued assisting her partner. "We need to get him into surgery immediately; he's lost a lot of blood already."

"Okay; thank you." Beckett stepped aside to let them pass with the stretcher. She took a deep breath, then turned back to Ryan. "Do we have any idea who did this?"

"Nothing." He shook his head.

"We need to get a team processing this place immediately," she instructed. "And has anyone called Alexis and Martha?"

"Yes; I thought they should know before anyone else calls them. They're both on their way to the hospital to meet him."

"Good." Beckett paused for a moment before continuing. When she did, her voice was full of resolve "Ryan, we need to find who did this."

"Yeah." He looked down at his hands, then reached for one of the clean towels on the floor. "We'll, uh, we'll take a look at the security camera footage from the lobby. Maybe we can spot something there," he told her, wiping at the blood that slicked his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey."

Alexis and Martha looked up from where they were huddled on the hard plastic waiting room chairs as Beckett approached.

"Kate," Martha managed a small smile, standing to greet the detective. "He's still in surgery."

Beckett nodded and accepted the hug, then turned to Alexis. "You all right?"

The girl simply nodded, giving Beckett a brave smile. "Do you have any information about my dad?"

"I'm sorry, not yet. I just wanted to come see how you two were getting along."

"We're fine," Martha said firmly. "Do you know who did this? Do you know who put my son in that operating room?"

Swallowing, Beckett gave a slight shake of her head. "We're working on it. I promise you, we are going to find the person who did this."

* * *

"We just got print results back," Ryan announced, joining Esposito at his partner's desk. "The only one that shouldn't be there belongs to a Cassidy Thomas."

"Cassidy Thomas? That name sounds familiar," Esposito mused, looking up from the computer screen.

"Yeah, it should." Ryan tossed a file onto the desktop. "We arrested her last year on a breaking and entering charge." Esposito opened the folder and flipped through the pages as his partner continued. "She went to jail for five months for breaking into the apartment of a Sasha Marshall. Apparently Thomas thought her boyfriend was cheating and wanted to prove it."

Esposito tapped the photo included in the file. "You know, I think … hold on a sec." He turned back to the computer, rewinding the security footage playing on the screen. "Yes," he said, pressing the button to pause the footage. He pointed at a dark-haired woman crossing to the elevators. "Looks like she was definitely there."

"Play it back again." Ryan leaned in closer. "Someone looks pretty nervous if you ask me."

"Uh-huh," Esposito nodded. "I say we found our attacker. We got an address on her?" he asked, looking back through the file.

"Yep. Let's go."

Within ten minutes, the two detectives were pulling into the parking lot of Cassidy Thomas's apartment building. It had been built only a few years before, and there was a distinctly modern feel to both the building and the grounds around it, even down to the abstract statues standing beside the doors.

Esposito and Ryan quickly made their way up the stairs to the correct apartment on the second floor, and Ryan rapped on the door.

After a few moments had passed and there was no answer, Ryan knocked again, harder this time. "Cassidy Thomas, this is the NYPD. We need to ask you a few questions."

There was a shuffling sound behind the door then it swung open. A young woman with slightly disheveled red hair blinked at the two men on her doorstep. Esposito was pretty sure he could smell alcohol on her breath.

"Can I help you?" she asked confusedly.

"We're looking for Cassidy Thomas," Ryan answered. "Is she home?"

"Cassidy?" the woman yawned. "No, she isn't, sorry. I'm her roommate, Elsie Williams. Can I tell her you stopped by?"

"Do you know where Miss Thomas is?" Esposito asked.

"She said something about going run an errand. Something she needed to do, or something," Elsie shook her head. "You know, I wasn't paying a ton of attention."

"Do you remember anything else she might have said?" Esposito wanted to know. "Did she mention if she was going to meet anyone?"

"Um …" Pushing a strand of strawberry blonde hair to the side, Elsie paused in thought. "I think she said something about stopping by a bookstore … or maybe something about a writer … Look, I'm really sorry, but I wasn't paying attention at all. I had a long day, and my favorite show is running a marathon. I think she said she was going to bring some food home later, though? You could come in and wait."

"That's okay, thanks." Ryan handed her a card. "If you think of anything else, please give us a call."

"Right," Elsie replied. "I'll do that." She stepped back inside and closed the door behind her.

"What do you think?" Ryan asked his partner as they turned from the closed door.

"I think someone needs to get out more," he replied with a small grin. "But I think we might want to wait around to see if –"

They had just come in sight of the elevators when the doors opened. A woman stepped through the doorway, her dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and a messenger bag slung over her arm. When she caught sight of the two men walking her way, she ducked back into the elevator with a panicked look on her face.

Esposito and Ryan quickened their pace but the doors slid closed as they reached the elevators. They just caught a glance of Cassidy repeatedly pressing the ground floor button before she disappeared from their view.

They both spun for the stairwell. Esposito hit the crash bar without hesitating, Ryan right on his heels, and they took the stairs two at a time. Reaching the bottom, they burst through the door into the lobby just as the elevators were opening.

"NYPD! Put your hands up!" Esposito's yell did nothing but spur Cassidy on; she only looked back briefly before disappearing through the glass doors at the front of the building.

Giving chase, Esposito and Ryan bolted through the doors before they had closed behind the suspect. She was already halfway down the block, pushing past the few people who were still on the street at nine thirty at night.

"Did she run track or what?" Ryan panted, running full out alongside his partner.

"I think that may have been in her file," Esposito replied. "And if it wasn't, it probably needs to be."

Cassidy seemed to know the neighborhood well and used that knowledge to her advantage. She ducked down a side alley and had nearly disappeared at the end before Esposito and Ryan reached the entrance.

They sprinted down the alley behind her, turning right in the same direction as Cassidy had gone. Though slowly, they did seem to be gaining some ground, and soon closed the gap to a few yards.

"Cassidy Thomas, NYPD. Stop right there," Ryan repeated the earlier order.

She hesitantly slowed, finally stopping and putting her hands to the sides. "Okay, fine," she panted.

"We need you to come with us to answer a few questions," Esposito said, keeping his gun trained on Cassidy.

* * *

"Where were you earlier tonight?" Beckett questioned, leaning forward across the table.

Cassidy stared back at her from her seat in the interrogation room. "I was out."

"Out where? And don't tell me you were running errands; we have you on tape." Beckett's eyes were hard. "Do you know Richard Castle?"

"Huh," Cassidy sniffed. "What do you care about a mystery writer? It's not like he's your partner or anything." The scorn was evident in her voice. "Or is he?"

"Answer my question," Beckett demanded. "Where were you tonight at seven thirty?"

"It's hard, isn't it, Detective?" Cassidy asked. "Losing the man that means so much to you."

Beckett arched an eyebrow. "I haven't lost anyone."

"Yet. Oh, you want to know what I mean by that, don't you? I can tell you firsthand, losing the person that means so much to you stinks like nothing else." Cassidy leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "But I'm sure you don't even know what I'm talking about, do you?"

"I'm going to ask you again, Miss Thomas. Why were you at Richard Castle's apartment building tonight?"

"You just don't get it, do you?" Cassidy asked. "You arrested me, I went to jail, and my boyfriend didn't want to wait around to marry an ex-con. And now, you're getting the taste of that, too. Does it taste good, Detective Beckett, to lose that special someone?"

"Miss Thomas, did you attack Richard Castle tonight?" Beckett asked, standing from her seat and placing both palms on the table, leaning forward into Cassidy's face.

"Yes." A sneer lifted the corner of Cassidy's mouth. "I hope it hurt."


	3. Chapter 3

"So it wasn't about me?"

It was the next afternoon. The surgery had gone without a hitch, and Castle, though weak, was recovering well. The three detectives had paid him a visit as soon as they were able. When they discovered Martha and Alexis had subsisted on coffee for the majority of the past day, Esposito and Ryan had insisted on taking them to get something of more substance than caffeinated beverages.

Beckett chuckled. "No, Castle, sorry."

The look on Castle's face could only be described as crestfallen. "All this time, and I still don't have a rabid fan attack to my credit."

"Well, I wouldn't say you don't have rabid fans," Beckett objected. "Remember the case that started us working together? Or the Nikki Heat case?"

He paused for a minute, apparently thinking it over. "I'll give you that. But think about the headlines this could have created! There would have been articles and blog posts. My books would have started flying off the shelves!" He paused at the look on her face. "What?"

Beckett just shook her head, her left eyebrow raised.

"But you did get her, right?" Castle asked, growing slightly more serious.

"Yeah, we got her," Beckett replied. "Cassidy Thomas confessed to breaking into your apartment last night. She wanted to get back at me for arresting her last year."

"So why not attack you? I mean, I remember hearing about the case and everything, but I wasn't brought in on it." Castle shifted in the bed, wincing slightly. "And why did you make the arrest anyway? It was a robbery case and you're in homicide."

"I tracked her down to bring her in for questioning on one of my cases – I thought she might have seen something that would be helpful – and it turned out she had an outstanding warrant for breaking and entering. She blamed me for causing her to go to jail."

"So why didn't she go after you?" he asked again. "Wait, don't tell me. She wanted to make a point, right? That or she knew accosting an officer of the law was worse than just a regular writer."

Beckett glanced down at her lap before looking back up at Castle. "No, her, uh, her boyfriend broke up with her when she was convicted," she told him. "She thought the best retaliation would be to take away someone important in my life."

Castle watched her face, his eyes softening and the edges of his mouth turning up. "And she chose me?"

"Don't sound so flattered, Castle. She put you in the hospital; she wanted you dead."

"Right. I'm sure she misinterpreted our relationship," he assured her. "We're just partners."

Before Beckett could respond, the door to Castle's room swung open. Esposito, Ryan, Martha, and Alexis entered, smiling and laughing.

"Well, you're all in good spirits," Castle greeted them with a smile. "I'm glad to see that. Now, let's talk food. What did you smuggle in for me?" He rubbed his hands together in expectation.

Esposito waved a brown paper bag in his direction. "How does a chicken sandwich sound?"

"Heavenly." Castle inhaled deeply, leaning forward towards the direction of the bag dangling in Esposito's hand.

"I was talking to Beckett. You think we're going to sneak you contraband?" Esposito leveled a look at the man in the hospital bed.

Castle's face fell, and the rest of the group laughed.

"Gotcha!" Ryan pointed a finger at the writer. "Dude, you should know us better than that."

Esposito pulled two foil-wrapped sandwiches from the bag, passing one to Beckett and one to Castle, who eagerly accepted it and began unwrapping the sandwich.

"So when do you get out of here?" Ryan asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

"Well, they're saying a week," Martha offered, speaking for Castle who was wolfing down his contraband.

The conversation continued, but Castle was only half-listening. He sighed contentedly. He had good food and even better friends, friends who he knew would always be there for him. The situation wasn't one he would have chosen, but he couldn't complain too much. He was going to be fine and out of the hospital in less than a week if his mother had anything to say about it.

And who knew? Maybe he could put his experience to good use in the next Nikki Heat novel. Jamison Rook needed a little more excitement in his life.


End file.
